My Gender is Model
by magicalyoyo
Summary: Adrien has kept his gender alignment secret from everyone except his family since he realized he was trans, but always hated hiding who he was. As he gets closer to his new friends, he begins to trust himself (and them).
1. Silence and Memories

**AN:** Wrote this back in spring 2016, and realized I never actually posted it on here... so here it is.

This is NOT an angsty trans fic, though it does deal with dysphoria, the fear of transphobia, and coming out. It's more of me dealing with my gender musings through Adrien, if I'm honest.

* * *

"Sorry, I have to go." Adrien, relying on the few practical skills he'd learned from years of modeling, forced his expression to remain pleasantly neutral. "See you tomorrow!"

Nino pulled a face at him. They'd made plans to see a movie after school, but he was used to Adrien's sudden disappearances and half-hearted excuses. He blinked and the gym door was already swinging closed behind Adrien. Nino was tempted to follow - who knew why his friend was rushing off this time - but he could only hope that it was just another forgotten appointment, even though Adrien's suddenly blank face worried him. Past experience had shown that it was no use trying to follow, because Adrien had a curious talent of disappearing without a trace. For someone whose main hobby was video games, he sure could move fast when he wanted to.

The small cluster of classmates stared at the door for a few seconds longer, surprised by the rapid exit, before returning to their conversation. Marinette was silent and a small frown creased her face. After her third glance over her shoulder, as if considering making a break for it herself, Alya stuck her elbow into the girl's side.

"What's up with you, space cadet?"

"Uh... I just... I have to go home and help my parents-" Marinette stuttered with her standard deer-in-the-headlights excuse face. Without finishing her sentence, she turned tail and bolted, leaving Alya with her mouth hanging open.

"Marinette, you forgot your - Oh, never mind." She pulled out her phone and wrote 'Mari, I'll drop your bag off in the bakery on my way home,' before rolling her eyes at Nino. They may be used to their friends, but that didn't mean it wasn't annoying when they took off without warning.

"So, Nino, you got plans this evening?"

"Not anymore... but I have it on good authority that there's a good movie showing tonight."

* * *

Adrien dropped onto the park bench and closed his eyes, breathing quickly. Girl, pretty girl, you'd make a pretty girl, you'd make... his thoughts ran in circles and echoed through his head. Pretty girl, pretty girl, girl. He forced a deep breath into his lungs and held it, clenching two large handfuls of his blond hair and pulling until his chin was pressed to his chest. It had just been a joking comment from Kim, after Adrien had taken it upon himself to prove that yes, his hair was in fact still long enough to braid after the recent haircut (it was, though the strands slipped out unless tied immediately). But it didn't mean anything. It was just... He sighed. Of course it was just a bad joke, the sort of thoughtless comment teenagers made to tease each other. He had simply shut down reflexively, panic taking over as sudden awareness of every cubic centimeter of his body swept through him.

Pretty girl..

Still focused on his inhales and exhales, Adrien slowly relaxed his hands and massaged his scalp, straightening his hunched back. Rolling his shoulders, trying to work out the knots of tension that had formed, he heard the fallen leaves crunching as hesitant footsteps approached as Plagg hid himself in Adrien's shirt pocket. The kwami had been saying something, he realized belatedly, dragging himself back to the real world.

"Adrien? Are you... is everything ok?"

Marinette. She'd become less awkward around him since the Mecha Strike III tournament, to the point of carrying on full conversations. Last week, she'd invited him, along with Alya and Nino, to the bakery for lunch, which he'd quickly accepted, remembering the absolutely glorious quiche her parents had pressed on them during their training session. She still didn't seem completely comfortable around him, but progress was progress and he was glad for another person to talk to.

"I'm... fine, thanks." He was taken off guard by the question. Nino was usually the only person to ask him how he was doing, but Marinette definitely had, and she continued staring at him as if she didn't quite believe his brief answer. Drawn in by her sincere expression, he opened his mouth to elaborate, or reassure her (he wasn't sure which), and then closed it again before he could say something stupid. Like, "I thought Kim was threatening to tell everyone I'm trans because I am a paranoid mess!"

Still, he was tempted to let the words past his lips anyway. Sometimes it was a challenge not to shout it from the rooftops, daring anyone to see him for someone other than who he was... Which, admittedly, he had done once before.

* * *

"I'm trans!" Chat Noir had yelled gleefully as he stood on his hands, making eye contact with Ladybug from his position at the peak of the roof, before gracefully flipping upright. She merely maintained eye contact, obviously trying not to smile or roll her eyes at his adrenaline-induced acrobatics, before tipping her head slightly to invite him to continue if he wished.

They had taken to spending time together after less difficult fights, the ones that didn't necessitate Lucky Charms or Cataclysm, leaving them secure in their magical suits. And sometimes, after the akumatized victims who came a little too close to completing their missions, Adrien would placate Plagg with extra Camembert. Several minutes later, Chat would climb the Eiffel Tower and breathe, watching his city spread out below, undamaged and, for now, safe, beneath him. More often than not, he would spot a lithe figure out of the corner of his eye, and Ladybug would drop down beside him to gaze down at Paris. During these quiet moments, they would sit together, silently, until their thoughts forced themselves into speech. Then they would talk, about anything and nothing. For all the secrets Chat Noir and Ladybug had to keep from each other, conversation came easily.

As the pressure drained from his head, his exclamation seemed to filter through his brain, adding another twist to the flutter in his chest - his heart was still racing, driven to a staccato beat by the remaining terror that always gripped him after the akuma was cleansed, as a voice in his head whispered "Someday... someday," in tones uncannily similar to his father's. When he heard his own words, however, he wasn't afraid. It just felt... right. To finally be able to tell someone, tell anyone, without keeping secrets, or upsetting his delicate social balance, or imagining the dark look in his father's eyes.

He was who he was, and she knew, and the world was still standing.


	2. Lock and Key

Marinette had evidently noticed his pause. Adrien fought a sudden urge to shake his head in an attempt to clear the lingering memories and forced himself to process her words. She was stuttering again, looking concerned.

"You, you don't have to tell me, I-I mean, if you want to but, but I just.. If you need anythingletmeknow!" Her sentence finished in a rush, as if she were forcing herself to finish before taking a breath, and she twisted a hand through her thick black hair.

Adrien smiled despite himself. He didn't understand Marinette most of the time - she'd gone from hating him, almost ripping his face off in front of the entire class on the first day of school (not that he could blame her), to barely speaking to him... Not that her tied tongue prevented her from crushing him when they played Mecha Strike III, of course. A thought rose from the back of his mind on occasion, pointing out his behavior around Ladybug was startlingly similar when he couldn't hide behind the confidence of Chat, but he pushed it away every time. Marinette had taken on Chloé, the queen of petty revenge, without batting an eye - he couldn't imagine her losing it over something as small as a crush. His bemusement had gradually fallen into the background, and he categorized her as 'eccentric' and continued on. She was his second ever friend, after all, and she did seem to genuinely enjoy his company. He wasn't exactly in a position to judge people for being weird.

"I'm fine. Really," he replied, realizing that it was true. The irrational panic had drained from his body, leaving a curiously light sensation that spread through his limbs. Adrien glanced at his watch, noting that he was due to be home in ten minutes. He would be on time to meet the car in front of the school if he ran. Instead of leaving, he sent a text to Nathalie, telling her that he was going home with Nino. Adrien trusted her to cover for him every once in a while, knowing from her occasional glances that she didn't fully agree with his father's utter control over his life.

Marinette still stood next to the bench, balanced on her toes, as if arguing with herself whether she should stay or go. He turned back to face her as he put his phone into his messenger bag, and his green eyes glinted in the fading sunlight as he grinned at her.

"You know what? I'm starving. Want to get something to eat?"

Her eyes widened for a moment and she appeared comically shocked, before a deep blush rose to her cheeks. Marinette nodded.

* * *

"So, you weren't allowed to tell anyone?" Ladybug asked, her blue eyes fixed on the fading sunset.

"No. My father thought it would be... inappropriate, and should stay within the family."

In fact, his father had expressly forbidden Adrien from speaking about gender, unwilling to divert any attention from clothing to his favorite model's actual life, to the extent of monitoring internet activity for connections to message boards and chat rooms for transgender youth. Chat Noir also couldn't tell Ladybug about how only three people - maybe two, now, he remembered with a jolt - excluding her, himself, and his doctor, had ever known for certain. Gabriel Agreste had chosen to reveal nothing about his child, even a name, to the public, despite Adrien's first appearance as a model taking place before his second birthday. Adrien secretly thought it was to avoid the inevitable backlash against dressing a "girl" in boy's clothes. As a baby, he'd been put in dresses and tiny suits, bows and pants and frills. He was equally happy in everything - it was fun to put on costume after costume, especially since it was one of the few times he was able to spend time with his dad.

Until, that was, he turned eleven and his father decided Adrien should wear only girls' fashion, and the photoshoots would move from kids' magazines to the Agreste advertising empire.

"Aren't you a pretty little lady?"

Every time the photographer said those words, Adrien would freeze, his thoughts deserting him, and his entire consciousness would revolt against the words, the clothes, the world. Without even knowing how to say what he was feeling, something inside him wanted to scream "I'm not a girl!"

His mother, who had begun to form an idea about the situation, had spent weeks tracking down counselors across France, and Adrien finally learned the words to begin to describe who he really was.


	3. Behind the Curtains

"I did have one friend who knew. We basically grew up together, so even my father wasn't able to hide it from her," Chat laughed softly, almost a sigh, the sound at odds with his suddenly tender expression. "She… well. She's not exactly a good person, but she was there for me. Once I came out, she was the only thing in my life that stayed the same. Sometimes it seemed like she didn't even notice, even when she used my new name and pronouns."

"That sounds… kind of nice."

"It was, even if it wasn't entirely out of kindness. I think she was mainly glad that she could always get me to be the dad, or hairdresser, or intern, to her supermodel princess CEO fairy whenever we played together."

Ladybug snorted - actually snorted, undignified but surprisingly cute – as he spoke, no doubt imagining a tiny Chat pretending to run coffee errands for his pint-sized boss. Reveling in her amusement, the boy proceeded to regale her with tales of their fantasy adventures, punctuating the stories with animated reenactments.

Eventually, Ladybug began to yawn. She tried to cover her exhaustion, but Chat saw the shadows under her eyes. It had been a long day, and now a long night as well.

"You should go to bed, my lady. I can't have your lack of sleep on my conscience," he said with a sly wink.

"And you should go back to whatever dumpster you live in, alley cat," Ladybug replied, rolling her eyes as he feigned offense. Her usual snark was in no way diminished by the late hour.

"I'll have you know I stay in a very nice garbage heap to get my beauty rest. This face doesn't maintain itself, you know."

"Then you have to go, for my sake – it's bad enough when you're well-rested." She smirked and softened the jibe by gently punching his shoulder, before casting out the spotted yoyo and leaping away.

Chat Noir watched her climb down to street level and take off across rooftops before he lost sight. As usual, his mind filled with questions, and he wondered which of the many buildings scattered below him was hers. Her home. He thought about what her room might look like – what colors were the walls? Did she have a poster of him, as he had a small framed photo of her beside his computer? Were her parents sleeping in the next room, or did she live alone? Did she have siblings?

Eventually his thoughts drifted back to their conversation. It had been cathartic, letting go of the words and thoughts and fears he'd held inside himself for so long, and to be accepted without hesitation by her gentle smile. Maybe he would regret telling her so much when the live-wire energy of adrenaline had finally worn off, but for now…

He'd never felt so safe.

* * *

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

With a groan, Adrien forced his eyes open, trying to ignore the burning grit of exhaustion that coated the lids, and fumbled for his phone. The combination of the late night, emotional exhaustion and this morning's early start promised a rough day. He glanced at the time displayed on the phone's glowing screen – an hour before Nathalie called him for breakfast. Just enough time to finish the geography homework and squeeze in a little Chinese practice if he rushed.

Oh… one more thing, he remembered with a wince, as the cell phone continued to buzz demandingly. Adrien carefully cleaned a small spot on his thigh with an alcohol wipe, and, mentally steeling himself, injected his weekly dose of testosterone. After disposing of the used syringe in the small box hidden in the back of a desk drawer, Adrien gently smoothed a dab of ointment onto his leg before covering it with a bandage. The words "If you can't make your own, store-bought is fine," were emblazoned in blue on the plaster; he had found them while browsing the internet during a period of insomnia several months ago and ordered three boxes without a second thought.

The bandage prickled against Adrien's skin and caught on his jeans as he pulled them on, and he resisted the urge to rip it off. His hatred of things stuck on his body had increased since he first became Chat Noir, to the point that Nino had sent him a video of a kitten rolling around with a Christmas bow in its fur after observing him struggle with latex gloves in biology class. Still, he repressed his irritation and pulled on a clean shirt. His father had made it clear that, if there was the slightest sign of scarring or infection, Adrien would once again be subjected to shots from a home visit nurse. As well as being an embarrassing situation for most teenagers, the prospect of someone else jabbing him with a needle sent involuntary shudders down Adrien's spine – it didn't hurt, precisely, but was profoundly disturbing on a subconscious level. He still hated the injections, but giving them himself at least lent enough control over the situation to make it bearable.

It also made him feel like less of an object, acted on entirely by external forces with no will of his own. As far as his father was concerned, Adrien's gender was "model," and everything else came secondary - Gabriel had determined that testosterone patches were "not an option, they will be seen and raise questions," crushing Adrien's hope of finally escaping needles after two years of Lupron injections from his doctor's cold hands, and had even gone so far as to delay his start of hormone replacement therapy for a year to better fit the lineup of clothes he was to model for the fall season.

Even after the uncomfortable wake-up call, Adrien felt good. The elation from last night's discussion with Ladybug hadn't worn off, even after he finally returned home and crawled into bed. His limbs felt curiously light, reminding him of the few times he was allowed a small glass of wine with dinner, and the sunlight trickling in between the window bars wasn't as harsh on his tired eyes.

The plan he had begun to formulate as the sun had risen behind the rooftops of Paris returned to his mind, and Adrien shivered with anticipation (and a little fear). Ladybug had lent him a corner of her cloak of confidence, which he wore as a shield while considering how to tell Nino.

It was time for one of his masks to come off.


End file.
